Page 56 of Claws and Effect

Laykin turned away, pretending to examine a flowering vine. How could she explain the transformation? That what began as duty had evolved into something that made her heart race, something that felt like coming home after being lost for years?

“Now I can’t imagine it being anyone else,” she admitted quietly.

The queen’s smile held genuine warmth as she touched her daughter’s cheek. “That much is obvious to anyone watching you together.” Her expression sobered. “Your father and I worried about Marcello’s reaction to the treaty. He’s been increasingly... difficult... at council meetings lately. Almost obsessive in his opposition to this alliance.”

“He’s always been the contrarian,” Laykin shrugged, though something in her mother’s tone gave her pause.

“Yes, but this is different,” the queen murmured, returning to her orchids. “More focused. More strategic. Less like his usual complaints and more like...” she hesitated, carefully selecting a yellowing leaf to trim, “...like someone with an agenda.”

Laykin’s spine straightened. “What kind of agenda?”

“I don’t know.” Her mother’s voice dropped further. “But I want you to be careful tomorrow at the council meeting. Both of you.”

“Do you think he?—”

The conservatory door opened with a soft whoosh of air, admitting King Leoric with Zyle and Marcello trailing behind him. The moment for confidences vanished, replaced by practiced smiles. But Laykin couldn’t miss the meaningful glance her mother shot toward her father—another silent communication that spoke volumes about their concerns.

“The orchids are magnificent, my dear,” King Leoric said, brushing a kiss against his wife’s cheek. “But perhaps we should move to the council chamber for our discussion. More comfortable seating for everyone.”

The formal phrasing struck Laykin as deliberate. The council chamber, like the Autumn Dining Room, had enhanced security features—soundproofing, limited access points, and no windows. Her parents were being cautious tonight, which only heightened her own sense of unease.

Zyle moved to her side as they exited the conservatory, his hand finding the small of her back in a gesture that seemed both protective and reassuring. “Everything all right?” he murmured.

“I’m not sure,” she whispered back. “My parents are acting strangely.”

His eyes scanned the corridor with renewed vigilance as they made their way to the council chamber, his tiger’s instincts clearly sensing the same undercurrents that troubled her lioness.

In the council chamber, they had barely sat before her father met both their gazes.

“The formal covenant will be signed publicly at the general assembly,” King Leoric announced, his tone brooking no opposition as they settled into their seats. “It’s time to end centuries of mistrust between our prides.”

The council chamber adjacent to the dining room was more intimate than the great hall but no less imposing with its carved wooden panels depicting lions in various poses of majesty. Ancient chandeliers cast pools of amber light over the polished table, creating an atmosphere of solemn purpose that matched the king’s declaration.

“With all due respect,” Marcello interjected immediately, his voice tight with barely controlled anger, “this covenant creates vulnerabilities in our security protocols. The sharing of intelligence, the integration of defenses—it’s reckless.”

Laykin noted how specifically his concerns focused on security measures rather than cultural or economic aspects. Why this particular fixation?

“The covenant has been vetted by our military advisors,” her father responded with patient diplomacy. “Their assessment indicates strengthened security, not compromised.”

“Youradvisors,” Marcello muttered, the emphasis telling. “Of course.”

Zyle leaned forward slightly, his posture relaxed despite the tension crackling through the room. “If I may, Your Majesty.” At the king’s nod, he continued, “The integration of security systems creates redundancy and multiple layers of protection. Our teams have conducted extensive penetration testing on the combined protocols. In every scenario, the unified approach proved more secure than either pride’s individual systems.”

His calm expertise left Marcello momentarily speechless, his mouth working as he searched for a new angle of attack. Laykin caught her mother’s subtle nod of approval.

The discussion continued, but Laykin focused on her uncle’s reactions more than his words. His objections remained centered on security concerns, his agitation growing with each point Zyle systematically dismantled. This wasn’t just Marcello’s usual contrarian stance—his opposition carried an almost desperate edge.

As the evening drew to a close, Laykin observed a brief exchange that sent alarms ringing through her mind. Marcello pulled aside one of the newer security guards—a square-jawed man whose face she didn’t recognize—speaking quietly as the guard nodded almost imperceptibly before resuming his post.

The interaction itself wouldn’t normally register as unusual, but combined with her mother’s warnings and Marcello’s focused objections to security arrangements, Laykin’s instincts flared. She made a mental note of the guard’s face, determining to have Holden run a background check.

When Marcello noticed her watching, he approached with his usual air of condescension, straightening his jacket with meticulous precision.

“I hope your tiger’s security is better than ours,” he said, too quietly for others to hear. “These are dangerous times for those who remake the world order without considering all... interested parties.”

The veiled statement delivered with unusual intensity struck Laykin as markedly different from his typical complaints—more pointed, more specific in its implied threat.

Before she could respond, Zyle appeared at her side, his presence both comforting and commanding as he assessed the tension between them. “Everything all right?”

---